Sir William would keep his word and sacred parole of honour.
CHAPTER IV
TWO COUNTRY MICE
It was late in April, and I had boiled my sap and had done with my sugar bush for another year. The snow was gone; the Kennyetto roared amber brilliant through banks of melting ice, and a sweet odour of arbutus filled all the woods.
Spring was in the land and in my heart, too, and when Nick Stoner galloped to my door in his new forest dress, very fine, I, nothing loath, did hasten to dress me in my new doe-skins, not less fine than Nick's and lately made for me by a tailor-woman in Kingsborough who was part Oneida and part Dutch.
That day I wore a light, round cap of silver mole fur with my unshorn hair, all innocent of queue or powder, curling crisp like a woman's. Of which I was ashamed and eager to visit Toby Tice, our Johnstown barber, and be trimmed.
My new forest dress, as I say, was of doe-skin – a laced shirt belted in, shoulder-caped, cut round the neck to leave my throat free, and with long thrums on sleeve and skirt against need.
Trews shaped to fit my legs close; and thigh moccasins, very deep with undyed fringe, but ornamented by an infinite pattern of little green vines, made me brave in my small mirror. And my ankle moccasins were gay with Oneida devices wrought out of porcupine quills and beads, scarlet, green, purple, and orange, and laid open at the instep by two beaded flaps.
I saddled my mare, Kaya, in her stall, which was a log wing to my house, and presently mounted and rode around to where Nick sat his saddle a-playing on his fife, which he carried everywhere with him, he loving music but obliged to make his own.
"Lord Harry!" cried he on seeing me so fine. "If you are not truly a Viscount then you look one!"
"I would not change my name and health and content," said I, "for a king's gold crown today." And I clinked the silver coins in my pouch and laughed. And so we rode away along the Johnstown road.
He also, I think, was dying for a frolic. Young minds in trouble as well as hard-worked bodies need a holiday now and then. He winked at me and chinked the shillings in his bullet-pouch.
"We shall see all the sights," quoth he, "and the Kennyetto could not quench my thirst today, nor our two horses eat as much, nor since time began could all the lovers in history love as much as could I this April day… Were there some pretty wench of my own mind to use me kindly… Like that one who smiled at us – do you remember?"
"At Christmas?"
"That's the one!" he exclaimed. "Lord! but she was handsome in her sledge! – and her sister, too, Jack."
"I forget their names," said I.
"Browse," he said, " – Jessica and Betsy. And they live at Pigeon-Wood near Mayfield."
"Oho!" said I, "you have made their acquaintance!"
He laughed and we galloped on.
Nick sang in his saddle, beating time upon his thigh with his fife:
"Flammadiddle!
Paddadiddle!
Flammadiddle dandy!
My Love's kisses
Are sweet as sugar-candy!
Flammadiddle!
Paddadiddle!
Flammadiddle dandy!
She makes fun o' me
Because my legs are bandy – "
He checked his gay refrain:
"Speaking of flamms," said he, "my brother John desires to be a drummer in the Continental Line."
"He is only fourteen," said I, laughing.
"I know. But he is a tall lad and stout enough. What will be your regiment, Jack?"
"I like Colonel Livingston's," said I, "but nobody yet knows what is to be the fate of the district militia and whether the Mohawk regiment, the Palatine, and the other three are to be recruited to replace the Tory deserters, or what is to be done."
Nick flourished his flute: "All I know," he said, "is that my father and brother and I mean to march."
"I also," said I.
"Then it's in God's hands," he remarked cheerfully, "and I mean to use my ears and eyes in Johnstown today."
We put our horses to a gallop.
We rode into Johnstown and through the village, very pleased to be in civilization again, and saluting many wayfarers whom we recognized, Tory and Whig alike. Some gave us but a cold good-day and looked sideways at our forest dress; others were marked in cordiality, – men like our new Sheriff, Frey, and the two Sammonses and Jacob Shew.
We met none of the Hall people except the Bouw-Meester, riding beside five yoke of beautiful oxen, who drew bridle to exchange a mouthful of farm gossip with me while the grinning slaves waited on the footway, goads in hand.
Also, I saw out o' the tail of my eye the two Bartholomews passing, white and stunted and uncanny as ever, but pretended not to notice them, for I had always felt a shiver when they squeaked good-day at me, and when they doffed hats the tops of their heads had blue marbling on the scalp under their scant dry hair. Which did not please me.
Whilst I chattered with the Bouw-Meester of seeds and plowing, Nick, who had no love for husbandry, practiced upon his fife so windily and with such enthusiasm that we three horsemen were soon ringed round by urchins of the town on their reluctant way to school.
"How's old Wall?" cried Nick, resting his puckered lips and wiping his fife. "There's a schoolmaster for pickled rods, I warrant. Eh, boys? Am I right?"
Lads and lassies giggled, some sucked thumbs and others hung their heads.
"Come, then," cried Nick, "he's a good fellow, after all! And so am I – when I'm asleep!"
Whereat all the children giggled again and Nick fished a great cake of maple sugar from his Indian pouch, drew his war-hatchet, broke the lump, and passed around the fragments. And many a childish face, which had been bright and clean with scrubbing, continued schoolward as sticky as a bear cub in a bee-tree.
And now the Bouw-Meester and his oxen and the grinning slaves had gone their way; so Nick and I went ours.
There were taverns enough in the town. We stopped at one or two for a long pull and a dish of meat.
Out of the window I could see something of the town and it seemed changed; the Court House deserted; the jail walled in by a new palisade; fewer people on the street, and little traffic. Nor did I perceive any red-coats ruffling it as of old; the Highlanders who passed wore no side-arms, – excepting the officers. And I thought every Scot looked glum as a stray dog in a new village, where every tyke moves stiffly as he passes and follows his course with evil eyes.
We had silver in our bullet pouches. We visited every shop, but purchased nothing useful; for Nick bought sweets and a mouse-trap and some alley-taws for his brother John – who wished to go to war! Oh, Lord! – and for his mother he found skeins of brightly-coloured wool; and for his
